barlaam and ioasaph

T H E L O E B C L A S S I C A L L I B R A R Y

FOl'NDKD BY JAMKS LOKB, LL.D.

I) IT I) BY

f . K . VAiiE, e n . , L i T T . D . K. C A P P S , p i i . n . , i x . i ) . W I I . I>. R O L ' S K , LITT i>.

B A R L A AM A N D I O A S A P I I

BARLAAM & IOASAPH. FROM FRENCH MANUSCRIPT OF THE XIV\"

CENTURY. ECEFrTON. S. 745

ST. J O H N D A M A S C E N E

A U L A A M A N D I O A S A P I I

W I T H A N K N G L I S H T R A N S L A T I O N B Y T H K

L A T E R E V . G . R. W O O D W A R D , M.A. , M i s . D .

SOMETIME SCHOLAR OP GOSTILLE AND CAIUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE

AND

H . M A T T I N G L Y , M.A. ONETIME CRAVEN SCHOLAR AND FELLOW OF GO V ILL AND CAIUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE; ASSISTANT KEEPER IN THE DEPARTMENT OF

COINS AND MEDALS, BRITISH ML'SELM

LONDON

W I L L I A M I L T D CAM It I DO , ASS AC 11U SETTS

H A R V A R D U N I V E R S I T Y PRESS M C M X X X V I l

First printed, 1911 Reprinted, 1937

PRINTED I N GREAT BItlTA

P R E F A C E

T H E T A L E

T H E R E is no doubt that the author of Barlaam and Ioasaph himself regarded his story as a true narrative of the lives of real characters and that this view was universally held unt i l quite recent times. The names of Saint Barlaam and Saint Ioasaph have figured in the Calendars both of the Roman and of the Greek Church and stil l retain their place in the latter. To-day, however, this view can be no longer held. A comparison of the story w i th the wel l-known legend of Buddha must convince every open-minded reader, that the outline of the plot is derived from the same Eastern source; in spite of all difference in detail, the general resemblance is quite undeniable. In the Martyrologium of Pope Sixtus the Fif th (1585-1590) under date of 27 November, are " t h e holy saints Barlaam and Josaphat, of India, whose wonderful acts Saint John of Damascus has described." 1 Thus Buddha takes his place as a Christian saint, for Joasaph is a corruption of the t i t le Bodhisatta. The writer himself tells us, that the story was brought to him from India, and i t is highly probable, that what he heard was simply a version of the life of Buddha, adapted by Christians of the East to their own use. But we should be going too far, i f

1 Rhys D a v i d s , Buddhist Birth Stories, p. xxix .

PREFACE

we sought for traces of Buddhist influence in the doctrinal teaching of the story. No real relationship has ever yet been proved between Christian and Buddhist monasticism ; in fact, in spite of certain obvious resemblances, the two differ profoundly in spirit. The aim of the Buddhist monk is mainly negativedeliverance from the evils of the flesh ; that of the Christian has also a positive aspect surrender of the semblance of happiness i n this world in order to gain the reality hereafter, the " " laid up for the righteous in I leaven.

The main aim of the author was the glorification of this Christian monasticism. Marriage, the cares of social and business life, the duties of citizenship all these, though not represented as inconsistent with Christian l iv ing, appear only as a second best. The ideal is the complete devotion of the whole personality to religious contemplation, the renunciation of wealth and pleasure and the mortification of the flesh. In his enthusiasm for the monastic life, as too in his passionate defence of the veneration ot Images, our author shows himself clearly an obstinate adversary of the great Iconoclastic movement of the eighth century A.D.

Our book falls roughly into three distinct parts : the narrativethe thread on which the whole is s t rung : the speechesmany of them of great lengthcontaining long expositions of Christian doctrine, confessions of Faith and hymns of praise,

PREFACE

and frequent long quotations from early Christian wr i ters 1 ; and the Apologues, 2 fables or parables, introduced in the speeches to illustrate pictorially some moral t ru th . The whole work is steeped in the language of the Bible and of the Christian Fathers ; and i t is this fact that has led the translators to adopt i style modelled on that of the Authorised Version. The task is not easy or without its perils; but in no other way, we believe, could the unity of the book be maintained ; the Biblical quotations, frequent as they are, would harmonise badly with a more modern style.

Books, l ike men, have their vicissitudes of fate. The favourite work of one generation may be the laughing-stock of the next ; and the e c edifying story of Barlaam and loasaph," which once enjoyed a popularity comparable to that of the *' Pilgrim s Progress" and furnished material for story-books and romances, for sermons and plays, has fallen into dee]) oblivion. That i t wi l l ever regain this lost fame is hardly to be expected ; its world of thought is far removed from ours and its controversies have in many eases ceased to concern us very deeply. But the tale has still life and vigour ; i t is no corpse of a book that we are dragging from its t o m b : we found i t , as the seekers found the bodies of the dead Saints, Barlaam and loasaph, " oiSkv \\} )(> 5e iiyus."

1 F o r Apology of Ar'stides see below, p. v i i i . 2 See below, p . v i i .

PREFACE

T H E APOLOGUES

I t is probable that these picturesque and effective l i t t le stories came with the main narrative from an Eastern source.1 The first ten are put into the mouth of Barlaam, the last into that of Theudas, and all are used to point some moral t ru th . The style is simple and graphic and to some readers the Apologues may form the most attractive part of the book.

The best known is, of course, the tale of the Caskets, made famous by its repetition in Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice,

T H E APOLOGY OF ARISTIDES

I n 18S9 Professor Rendel Harris discovered a Syriac version of the Apology of Aristides in St. Katharine's Convent on Mt . Sinai. While engaged on a study of the new text Dr . Armitagc Robinson was reminded of a passage in Barlaam and Ioasaph, and, on turn ing to the text made the interesting discovery, that the speech of Nachor (pp. 396-425) was nothing but the Apology in a Greek dress, fitted, w i th some deftness, into its new context. 2 For all details we wi l l refer to Dr . Armitagc Robinson's work. We need only remind our readers here, that, according to Euscbius of Cacsarea, the " Apology " was a defence of Christianity presented by Aristides, a philosopher

1 F o r detai ls sec M a x Mii l le r , Conlemp. Rcricw{.]\\\y, 1S70). 2 C)). p. 4-4 : yvys, ^, ' 4

hiyot, rats * iyicv^as titpijaeis ovSev

viii

PREFACE

of Athens, in 124 to the Emperor Hadrian, when on a visit to that city ; that modern scholars have found some reasons for assigning the work to the reign of Antoninus Pius, but that beyond all question, i t is an early and authentic Christian document. The tone is calm and reasonable and the appeal made is rather to common-sense and plain facts than to subtleties of logic or to exalted emotion.

T H E AUTHORSHIP

The question of the authorship of Barlaam and Ioasaph cannot be passed over in silence, but considerations of space wi l l only allow us to sum up the arguments and conclusions as briefly as possible.

Throughout the Middle Ages down to quite recent times the book was almost universally attr ibuted to St. John of Damascus.1 No other attributions need be seriously considered, and the only question for us to decide is whether we can accept the traditional authorship of the Damascene or must let the book remain anonymous. The earliest MSS. mention as author a certain " John the Monk " ; but a Lat in MS. of the twelfth century in the British Museum gives i t to John of Damascus by name, and after that time the tradition becomes inereasingl}' strong in his favour. But in 1S8G H . Zotenberg, in an elaborate monograph, attempted to prove that St. John could not have been the author, and man writers have accepted his conclusions in simple

1 b'ee below, p. xi i i . ix

PREFACE

trust. We wi l l sum up the more important of his arguments:

(1) He points out that the definite attr ibut ion to St. John does not occur in the earliest MSS.

(2) The importance of the questions of the two natures and the two wills of Christ suggests an earlier date than the eighth centurya date nearer to the time of the great controversies on these subtle points.

()) There is absolutely no mention of the Mohammedan religion.

(4) The style is quite unlike that of St. John in his works of certain authenticity.

Zotenberg has a few other arguments that seem to us to carry no weight whatever ; and he has also attempted, without much success, to dispose of the definite arguments in favour of the traditional a t t r i bution.

These arguments must now be stated : (1) Our work exhibits the most str iking re

semblances on points of doctrine and use to the doctrinal works of St. John ; in many passages the resemblance amounts almost to verbal identity.

(2) There are frequent quotations from favourite authors of St. John, especially from St. Gregory or Xazianzus and St. Hasil.

(3) The defence of Images, coupled with the denunciation of Idolatry, the enthusiasm for the monastic ideal, and the scant regard shown for the bishops and the secular clergy, almost compel us to

PREFACE

plaee the work in the time of the Iconoclastic Controversy. The position, taken up and defended, is exactly that of the Icon-venerators; and we regard this fact alone as conclusive evidence for an eighth century date.

I n answer to Zotenberg's arguments we may say : (1) That " John the Monk," to whom the earliest

MSS. assign the work, may very well be St. John of Damascus; he seems to have been commonly known under this name.

(2) The references to the controversies over the two natures and two wills of Christ are not nearly so frequent or so pointed as are those to the Icon Controversy. This argument, in any case, does not tel l seriously against the traditional date.

(3) The lack of any mention of Islam is more remarkable. But St. John had stood in friendly relations wi th the Mohammedans, and, as they were iniidels indeed, but not idolators, they did not come wi th in the special scope of his attack. He was actually accused by his enemies of being a i favourer of Mussulmans." Hence his silence on this point, though striking, is not inexplicable.

(1) The question of style is rather a diilieult one. Zotenberg's treatment of the subject is not very successful, and he has made several gross blunders, which justify serious doubts of his competency to pronounce on the subject. The case seems to stand thus : parts of the speeches, dealing with points of doctrine, are str ikingly l ike St. John's doctrinal

x i

PREFACE

works ; other parts of the work, particularly the narrative sections, are less similar, but are not unlike some of S t John's homilies. On such a point certainty is hardly attainable. We th ink i t may safely be said that the style certainly does not rule out the possibility of St. John's authorship; some readers wi l l go further and maintain that i t actually confirms i t .

Our general conclusion then is this. There is a tradition in favour of St. John of Damascus as the author of Barlaam and Ioasaph. The book was undoubtedly wri t ten during the Iconoclastic Controversy, in the eighth century, probably at a time when the Iconoclasts were in the ascendant (c. 750 .. r). I t was wr i t t en either by St. John of Damascus l i imc l f or by another monk bearing the name of John, who was intimately acquainted wi th the works of the Damascene, quoted freely from the same authors, held the same views on general points of doctrine and took the same side in the Iconoclastic Controversy. We have examined Zotenberg's arguments and found them insufficient; his followers have added l i t t le or nothing to his ease. Langen, after a thorough inquiry, accepts the tradit ion : Max Midler characterises the arguments brought against i t as very weak. We th ink therefore that the name of St. John of Damascus has sti l l a r ight to appear on the title-page.

xi i

B I B L I O G R A P H Y

T H E Greek T e x t , employed in th is present book, and upon which the accompanying E n g l i s h Trans la t ion is based, is that of J . F . Boissonade, occurr ing in vol. iv . , pp. 1-365, of his Anecdota Graeca, P a r i s , 1S32.

Boissonade's is the F i r s t P r i n t e d Greek edition of B a r l a a m and loasaph, and is founded on certain M S S . in the Biblio-theque Nat ionale in Par is . These are four in number ; viz., Codex 903 (of the eleventh cent.) which Boissonade labels A; Codex 904 (of the twelfth c e n t . ) / ? ; Codex 112S (of the fourteenth cent.) C; and Codex 907 (also of the fourteenth cent.) D. B u t to this last-named eocle-x Boissonade refers only when deal ing w i t h the Apology of Aristides, pp. 243 -251. Boissonade appears to have favoured Codex 904 most of a l l , and, on p. vi i of his preface, lie informs us that, for the sake of brevi ty , he has noted only a few variations of A and C. H i s hopes of a new edition by Schmid t and K a p i t a r have not ye t been fulfilled. W h e n seeking for the best Greek text of B a r l a a m and loasaph , Migne avai led himself of the labours of Boissonade, and this text he has, more or less faithfully, reproduced in his th i rd vol. of St . J o h n Damascene's wr i t ings in T o m e xcv i . of the Patrologiae Graecce Cursus Completus.

I n 18S4 there was published at A thens , under the editor-ship of Sophronius, Monk of M o u n t Athos , another printed edition of Bar laam and loasaph. T h i s was based upon parchment M S S . belonging to the Skete of St . Anne on the aforesaid H o l y Mount .

I n addit ion to Codices 903, 904, 907 and 112S, Boissonade enumerates 1G other Greek M S S . in the Bibl iotheque Nat ionale in Par i s . A n d I I . Zotenberg, in his Notice sur le livre de Barlamn at lottsnph, p. 3, gives us their numbers, and dates, ranging from the eleventh to the sixteenth centuries, but says nothing about their genealogical classification. H e also supplies a valuable l is t of Greek M S S . elsewhere. S i x examples are 9aid to be preserved in

xii i


the Imper ia l L i b r a r y at V i e n n a ; four in the R o y a l L i b r a r y at Munich ; ten in different L ibra r ies a t Oxford. Single copies exist in the B r i t i s h Museum, in the L i b r a r i e s of Heidelberg, R o m e and the abbey of Gro t ta F e r r a t a , at Florence, a t V e n i c e , T u r i n , M a d r i d , the E s e u r i a l ; at Moscow, in the pat r ia rcha l L i b r a r y a t Ca i ro , at the convents of Sa int Saba (whereof St . J o h n Damascene was monk) and of Iveron, and of St . A n n e on .Mount Athos . D r . Ar ini tage Robinson in his Appendix to The Apology of Aristides, pp. 81, 82, adds to this lorn,' lisc a G r e e k M S . at W i s b e c h , apparent ly of the beginning of the e leventh cent. ; and another, of the seventeenth cent. , in the L i b r a r y of Pembroke College, Cambridge.

A glance at the Catalogue of Romances in the Department of MSS. in the British Museum 1 alone is sufficient to prove the immense popular i ty of Barlaam and Ioasaph in the Middle Ages , and to show what mater ia l i t provided for romancers, poets preachers, teachers, dramatists , wr i ters of mystery plays, Mora l i t i e s , 2 and the l ike.

Af ter the appearance of B a r l a a m and Ioasaph in the l i terary works ot St . J o h n Damascene, and following its em-bodiment, about the middle of the tenth cent. , in Simeon Metaphrastes' Licet of the Saints, i t was t ranslated into L a t i n , cer ta in ly not later than the twelf th c e n t . 3 F r o m this and from other L a t i n versions the history of B a r l a a m and Ioasaph passed easily into near ly ever}' language in E u r o p e . 4

T o speak only of E n g l a n d . H e r e , as elsewhere, B a r l a a m and Ioasaph was probabty chiefly known by means of the Dominican M o n k Jacobus de V o r a g i n e 5 and his famous

1 I I . L . D . WARD , vol. i i , pp. 111-149. 2 Bar laam's Apologue of the man and his three friends

is suggestive of the old Mora l i t y Everyman. loasapl fs temptation by the fair damsels and the fair princess is ant ic ipatory of Pars i fa l , the flower maidens and K u n d r y .

3 W i t n e s s A d d . M S . 17,209. 4 F r o m the original Greek i t is al^o said to have been

translated at an ear ly date into Arab ic , Eth iop ie , A r m e n i a n , S y r i a c and Hebrew.

r N a t i v e of Varraggio on the G u l f of Genoa, born c. 1230, died in 1298.

xiv


Lfgnxda Aurea, which is a collection of L i v e s of Saints . Dar laam and Joa^aph appear in this work, not as S*". John Damascene wrote the history, but in an abridged form. 1 B u t wi th the invention of the P r i n t i n g Press copies were greatly mult ipl ied. T h e first edition of Lrynxda Aurea is supposed to have been printed at Base l about 1470, and of this L a t i n edition Caxton made a translat ion and * F y n y s s h c d ' i t a t Wes tmins te r , on Nov . 20, 14S3. S ince then many a reprint of these Goldni Legends has been made. I n lf>72 these was also published in London, in E n g l i s h prose, The History of the Five Wise Philoso]>here: or T h e Wonderful Re la t ion of the Li fe of Iehoshaphat the H e r m i t , Son of Avenerio, K i n g of B u r m a in I n d i a . . . A Trea t i se , both P lea -sant Profitable, and Pious. T h i s was wri t ten by I f . P(arsons) . , Gent . Subsequent editions of this work appeared in 1711, 17*25 (?) and 173*2; and the above was reprinted by K . S. Macdonald, Ca lcut ta , 1895.

D r . Armi tage Robinson considers i t "remarkable that this work , which at one t ime enjoyed such extraordinary popularity, should not have found its w ay into print in its original language before the nineteenth century. ' Perhaps i t is scarcely less remarkable that i t has been reserved to the year 1014 to give a full t ranslat ion in E n g l i s h , as is now done for the first t ime, of this edifying and charming 'half-Greek , and half-oriental story.'

1 I n the first part of the fourteenth cent, a prose Lfynde Done, founded on the earl ier one, was wr i t ten by a F r e n c h monk, J ean de V i g n a y , and from this wri ter , and from others, there were d rawn prose and verse translations in E n g l i s h , M S . copies of which are s t i l l to be found in the B r i t i s h Museum, and in the Bodleian L i b r a r y ; and some of these have been pr inted by K . S. Macdona ld , and others by C a r l I l o r t s m a n n in his Alienylische Leyenden. F o r other foreign metrical versions, see that of G u i de Cambra i ; that of an Anglo-Norman poet, C h a r d r y : and the long epic of Rudol f von E m s . See also, in prose, the Spf.ru/hhforude by V incen t ius Bel lovaccnsis , L i b . x v i . caps. 1-01 ; S t rasburJ . 1473.

XV

S O M E U S E F U L B O O K S O F R E F E R E N C E

MICHEL LEQUIEN. S t . J o h n of Damascus . 2 vols. P a r i s , 1712.

FR. . '. B a r l a a m und Josaphat . Konigsberg , 1818. J . F . BOISSONADE. Anecdota G r a e c a . P a r i s , 1S32. V o l . iv. I t . ZOTKNBERG und P . MEYER. B a r l a a m und Josaphat .

S tut tgar t , 1843, etc. J . P . MIGNE. S. Athanas i i V i t a Sanct i Antoni i . T o m . x x v i .

ft". S35-97S. Par is , 1S57. J . P . MIGNE. S. Basi l ius . T o m . x x i x - x x x i i . P a r i s , 1857. J . P . MIGNE . S. Gregor ius Nazianzenus. T o m . x x x v . -

x x x v i i i . Par i s , 1857-S. J . P . MIGNE . S. Job Damasccnus . Patrologiae Cursus

Coinpletus. Series Graeca , T o m . xc iv , xcv, xcv i . P a r i s , 1SG0.

J . P . MIGNE. Agapet i Diaconi C a p i t a admonitoria. Torn, l x x x v i , P a r s i , if. 1103-1186. Par is , 1860.

JOHN MASON ,. H y m n s of the E a s t e r n C h u r c h . L o n don, 1862, 1S63, 1S06, 1870.

CHRIST (WILHELM ) and PARANIKAS (MATH . ) . Anthologia Graeca carminum chr is t ianorum. Lipsias, 1871.

LANGEN (JOSEPH). J o h . von D a m a s k u s . Gotha , 1S79. MAX MULLER. Migration of Fables in Contemp. Review

(Ju ly , 1S70) : IDEM. Selected Essays (London, 1SS1). J . H . LUI*TON. S t . J o h n of Damascus . London , 1882. . ZOTENBERG. Not ice sur le l ivre de B a r l a a m et Joasaph.

Pa r i s , 1886. J . RENDEL HARRTS k J . ARMITAGE ROBINSON. T h e

Apology of Ar is t ides . Cambridge, 1 SOI. 1. L . D . WARD . Catalogue of Romances in the Depar tment

of M S S . in the B r i t . us. especial ly vol. i i . pp. 111-149. London, 1893.

K U I I N . B a r l a a m und Ioasaph, in Abhandlungen der K. layer Abut. d. lVisscnsch.,1. K l a s s . , xx . ( M u n i c h , 1S93), sect. i .

K . S. MACDONALD. T h e Story of B a r l a a m und Ioasaph. C a l c u t t a , 1890.

HAUCK, ALBERT. Rcaleneyklopi idie , B a n d i i . f. 405. Le ipz ig , 1897.

A . VACANT. Diet , de T h i o l . C a t h . i i . 410. Par i s , 1905. T H E CATHOLICK ENCYCLOPEDIA. V o l . i i . p. i ,97. N e w

Y o r k . I m p r i m a t u r , 19o7.

xvi

L I F E O F ST. J O H N D A M A S C E N E

ST. J O H N , who from the place of his b i r th derives his t i t le Damascene, was born in or about the year 676, and died, i t is thought, after 751 but before 787. For details of his life we depend entirely upon John, Patriarch of Constantinople and Martyr, 963-969 : from whom we gather that St, John Damascene was of gentle blood, and came of Christian ancestors, whose family name was Mansur, the Arabie for victor. His father was given to good works, and made no secret of his religion, nor was this considered by the Saracen as any bar against his holding high office at the Court of Damascus, and in this respect he was not unlike Joseph in Egypt, and Daniel in Babylon before him.

The old Mansur had a son, John by name; besides him, he had an adopted son called Cosmas. When John and his foster-brother Cosmas were old enough, their education was committed to the charge of an elderly and learned Sicilian Monk and Priest, whose name also happened to be Cosmas. He had been carried away captive from Sicily, and was standing in the market-place at Damascus, doomed to death or slavery, when the old Mansur pleaded wi th the Caliph for his life, ransomed and took him to his own home. There the old Monk Cosmas, fearing

xvii b


the judgement threatened to the slothful servant who possessed the t a l e n t 1 but made no use of i t , soon fell to work and began to instruct his two pupils in rhetoric, dialectic, philosophy, natural history, music, astronomy, and above all in theology. This done, old Cosmas withdrew from Damascus to the Monastery of St. Sabas,2 near Jerusalem. On the death of his father, John Mansur was summoned to court and pressed to accept the office of - or chief-couneillor. To this request, after some l i t t l e persuasion, he consented.

A t that time the Eastern Church was in the throes of the Iconoclastic heresy. 3 I n 72G Leo the Isaurian passed his first royal edict against the vener-

1 C p . Barlaam and Ioasa)iht p. 4. 2 T h i t h e r he was followed by both his pupils , as wel l as by

S t . J o h n Damascene's nephew, St . Stephen the Sabaite. 3 ' N o controversy has been more grossly misapprehended ;

none, wi thout the k e y of subsequent events, could have been so difficult to appreciate. T i l l C a l v i n i s m , and its daughter Ra t iona l i sm, showed the ult imate development of Iconoclast ic principles, it must have been well-nigh impossible to realise the depth of feeling on the side of the C h u r c h , or the greatness of her interests a t tacked by her opponents. W e may, perhaps, doubt whether even the Saints of that day fully understood the character of the ba t t l e ; whether they did not give up ease, honour, possession, life itself, rather from an intui t ive perception that their cause was the cause of the Catho l ic faith, than from a logical appreciation of the results to wh ich the Image-destroyers were tending. J u s t so, in the ear ly part of the Nestor ian controversy many and many a simple soul must have felt in tu i t ive ly that the t i t le of Theotocos was to hr defended, without seeing the full consequences to wh ich its denial would subsequently lead. T h e supporters of Icons, by universa l consent, numbered amongst their ranks all that was pious and venerable in the E a s t e r n C h u r c h . T h e Iconoclasts seem to have been the legit imate development of that secret creeping Manichaeis in, which ,

xvi i i

L I F E OF ST. J O H N D A M A S C E N E

ation of sacred images. A t Damascus St. John entered the arena against h im, and vigorously defended this practice as the ancient and lawful heritage of the Christian people. Moreover lie stirred up the Faithful to resist and ignore the edict. In 730 there followed a second royal decree, more arbitrary than the former. To this St. John Damascene replied with greater zeal and eloquenee than before. No marvel, therefore, i f the Emperor resented the contradiction of this able and learned opponent, who sheltered himself, as he considered, under the wing of the Caliph of Damascus. So, being unable to overwhelm St. John Damascene by force or argument, Leo determined to compass his ruin by stratagem. For which purpose he forged letters addressed to himself, purporting to be wri t ten in the hand-writ ing of St. John at Damascus, privi ly informing the Byzantine Emperor that the guard at Damascus was weak and negligent, and promising Leo that, i f he sent sufficient troops, he could easily capture the city, and might count on the writer's co-operation. This forged letter was then despatched to the Caliph : and for a while the latter believed that his once faithful had been gui lty of base treachery. Nothing short of a miracle, which the historian relates, cleared up the mystery, and finally restored the Damascene to his master's favour and confidence.

Soon after this, being constrained to ' forsake all and follow Christ/ St. John begged the Caliph to relieve him of his office, and at last with difficulty

under the various names of Tur l i ip i i i s , Bogomil i , or ( loodmen, FO long devastated Chr is t ' s fold.' J . 1. KALE, ifymns of the Eastern Church, London, lSu.S, pp. 14, 15.


obtained permission to retire from public life. Having sold all his worldly goods, and distributed to the poor, w i th but one coat on his back, he retired, together w i th the younger Cosmas, his former playmate (hereafter to be known as Cosmas the Melodist, and Bishop of Maiuma), to the monastery of St. Saba, whither his old tutor, Sicilian Cosmas, had already gone, e esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures' in Syria, and accounting the dry desert better than c Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus.' Here later on he was ordained Priest of the church of Jerusalem. Here he fasted and prayed. Here he composed his famous Canons, Odes, Idiomela, Stichera, Cathismata, Troparia, Theotokia, and the l ike. Here he set in order the Greek service books, supplying that which was lacking for the Eastern, as did vSt, Gregory the great for the Western church. And l o ! he, that was once dubbed by his enemies c Mamzer ' (Hcbraice e bastard ' ) , f a cursed favourer of Saracens' ca traitorous worshipper of images/ f a wronger of Jesus Christ,' a teacher of impiety/ and f a b a d interpreter of the Scriptures/ is now, from his defence of sacred images, fitly styled f the Doctor of Christian A r t , ' is surnamed ( Chrysorrhoas ' (the Golden-stream), and has c deservedly won the double honour of being the last but one of the Fathers of the Greek church and the greatest of her Poets.'

x x

BARLAAM AND IOASAPH

2 0 2 2 0 2 2 , 2 2 , 2 2 , 0 2 E N A P E T O T 2 T O T 2 - H I 0 2 2 .

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N a z L m z . , yevo- . , yeypa-380,34 .

* ayioi pyaa^

i i c b . . 4 , Be - */}

Mat. . 14 , yvvo. , 2

L u k e . 32 ayy\v , ypafyy

, 2

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H A N E D I F Y I N G S T O R Y F R O M T H E I N N E R L A N D O F T H E E T H I O P I A N S , C A L L E D T H E L A N D O F T H E I N D I A N S , T H E N C E B R O U G H T T O T H E I I O L Y C I T Y , B Y J O n N T H E M O N K ( A N H O N O U R A B L E M A N A N D A V I R T U O U S , O F M O N A S T E R Y O F S A I N T S A B A S ) ; W H E R E I N A H E T H E L I V E S O K T H E F A M O U S A N D B L E S S E D B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H .

I N T R O D U C T I O N

e As many as are led by the Spirit of God T h e author they are sons of God* saith the inspired Apostle, f o f t h t h c Now to have been accounted worthy of the Holy purpose of Spirit and to have become sons of God is of al l h l a h l s t u r y things most to be coveted ; and, as i t is wr i t ten , 'They that have become his sons find rest from all enquiry/ This marvellous, and above all else desirable, blessedness have the Saints from the beginning won by the practice of the virtues, some having striven as Martyrs, and resisted sin unto blood, and others having struggled in self-discipline, and having trodden the narrow way, proving Martyrs in w i l l . Now, that one should hand down to memory the prowess and virtuous deeds of these, both of them that were made perfect by blood, and of them that by self-denial did emulate the conversation of Angels, and should deliver to the generations that follow a pattern of virtue, tin?:"

3 2


yeveatSy - , yevovs . yap , ' - . , ) , airoyiva- . , -,

Gai. . ; . Phil. i n . in KaVQVij

'), , -Mat. . , yr)v 24 payeov) 3

/ ' ayavo , ^/ , , .

4

B A H L A A M A N D I O A S A P H

hath the Church of Christ received as a tradit ion from the inspired Apostles, and the blessed Fathers, who did thus enact for the salvation of our race. For the pathway to virtue is rough and steep, especially for such as have not yet wholly turned unto the Lord, but are stil l at warfare, through the tyranny of their passions. For this reason also we need many encouragements thereto, whether i t be exhortations, or the record of the lives of them that have travelled on the road before us ; which latter draweth us towards i t the less pain-fully, and doth accustom us not to despair on account of the difficulty of the journey. For even as wi th a man that would tread a hard and difficult p a th ; by exhortation and encouragement one may scarce win him to essay i t , but rather by pointing to the many who have already completed the course, and at the last have arrived safely. So I too, ' walking by this rule,' and heedful of the danger hanging over that servant who, having received of his lord the talent, buried i t in the earth, and hid out of use that which was given him to trade withal , wi l l in no wise pass over in silence the edifying story that hath come to me, the which devout men from the inner land of the Ethiopians, whom our tale calleth Indians, delivered unto me, translated from trustworthy records. I t readeth thus.


, --' - * /)? , , - , 6 T/o?, 6

J o h n i. is , , , * -

B a r u c h i u . , , 3 7 ; J o h n i . > > ' ' >' > ' ~ " > < ~ 14; i i e b . i v . , , 2 7 ' 4 2 U k e i " & ,

, -, , , ^ , ,

M k . x v i . 19 i ieb . . 3 , -

, ,

A c t s . 3 , Mat. iv. 16 - ' ^ " * >< K a L

,

6

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P I I , i. 3-4

I

T H E country of the Indians, as i t is called, is vast H o w the and populous, ly ing far beyond Egypt. On the side V^.omas of Egypt i t is washed by seas and navigable gulphs, [I^Q1**, but on the mainland i t marchcth wi th the borders of J ^ c Persia, a land formerly darkened wi th the gloom of idolatry, barbarous to the last degree, and wholly given up to unlawful practices. But when ' t he only-begotten Son of God, which is in the bosom of the Father,' being grieved to see his own handiwork in bondage unto sin, was moved wi th compassion for the same, and shewed himself amongst us without sin, and, without leaving his Father's throne, dwelt for a season in the Virgin's womb for our sakes, that we might dwell in heaven, and be re-clainicd from the ancient fall , and freed from sin by receiving again the adoption of sons; when he had fulfilled every stage of his life in the flesh for our sake, and endured the death of the Cross, and marvellously united earth and heaven ; when he had risen again from the dead, and had been received up into heaven, and was seated at the r ight hand of the majesty of the Father, whence, according to his promise, he sent down the Comforter, the Ho ly Ghost, unto his eye-witnesses and disciples, in the shape of fiery tongues, and despatched them unto all nations, for to give l ight to them that sat in the darkness of ignorance, and to baptize them in the Name of the Father, and of the Son,and of the Holy Ghostwhereby i t fell to the

7


, , \ , , - , el?

A c t e i . 13 , ^ , -

Mk. x v i . so , -

E u s . . . , , -S X T ' H E 1 ^ - " ^ ^ , \. ; . ,)

, , - , , , , , .

, )

Ps. . 4 , , , , , . ( , , , , , , ), 8

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , i. 4 6

lot of some of the Apostles to travel to the far-ofT East and to some to journey to the West-ward, while others traversed the regions North and South, ful-fil l ing their appointed tasksthen i t was, I say, that one of the company of Christ's Twelve Apostles, most holy Thomas, was sent out to the land of the Indians, preaching the Gospel of Salvation. 4 The Lord working wi th him and confirming the word with signs following/ the darkness of superstition was banished; and men were delivered from idolatrous sacrifices and abominations, and added to the true Faith, and being thus transformed by the hands of the Apostle, were made members of Christ's household by Baptism, and, waxing ever wi th fresh increase, made advance-ment in the blameless Faith and bui l t churches in all their lands.

Now when monasteries began to be formed in 9 f A W , m e r & the k i n g

Egypt, and numbers of monks banded themselves and in* together, and when the fame of their virtues and 1 J d t r y

Angelic conversation ' was gone out into all the ends of the wor ld ' and came to the Indians, i t stirred them up also to the l ike zeal, insomuch that many of them forsook everything and withdrew to the deserts; and, though but men in mortal bodies, adopted the spiritual life of Angels. While matters were thus prospering and many were soaring upward to heaven on wings of gold, as the saying is, there arose in that country a k ing named Abenner, mighty in riehes and power, and in victory over his enemies,

9


, , * \ , ] , . } , , ) , - , yap , , , , . , .

* , , , , Xoyov, 7 . - , , , , , - . , , - ,

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , i . 6 - 7

brave in warfare, vain of bis splendid stature and comeliness of face, and boastful of all worldly honours, that pass so soon away. But his soul was utter ly crushed by poverty, and choked wi th many vices, for he was of the Greek way, and sore distraught by the superstitious error of his idol-worship. But, although he lived in luxury, and in the enjoyment of the sweet and pleasant things of life, and was never baulked of any of his wishes and desires, yet one th ing there was that marred bis happiness, and pierced his soul wi th care, the curse of childlessness. For being without issue, he took ceaseless thought how he might be r id of this hobble, and be called the father of children, a name greatly coveted by most people. Such was the k ing , and such his mind.

Meanwhile the glorious band of Christians and H o w , the companies of monks, paying no regard to the r e a t s 0? king's majesty, and in no wise terrified by his the c h r i s -threats, advanced in the grace of Christ, and grew l\^i]!Zs^ in number beyond measure, making short account P e r e d of the king's words, but cleaving closely to everything that led to the service of God. For this reason many, who had adopted the monastic rule, abhorred alike all the sweets of this world, and were enamoured of one th ing only, namclv godliness, th i rs t ing to lay down their lives for Christ his sake, and yearning for the happiness beyond. Wherefore they preached, not wi th fear and trembling, but rather even w i th excess of boldness^ the saving Name of God, and naught but Christ

1 1


, , \

COL 3 (-) . , , , / ' % - .

, , , , - . , . / , 8 , , . , , - , -. \ , , , *

12

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , i . 7 - 8

was on their lips, as they plainly proclaimed to all men the transitory and fading nature of this present time, and the fixedness and incorruptibi l i ty of the life to come, and sowed in men the first seeds, as i t were, towards their becoming of the household of God, and winning that life which is hid in Christ. Wherefore many, profiting by this most pleasant teaching, turned away from the bit ter darkness of error, and approached the sweet l ight of T r u t h ; insomuch that certain of their noblemen and senators laid aside all the burthens of l ife, and thenceforth became monks.

But when the k ing heard thereof, he was filled H o w the with wrath, and, boil ing over wi th indignation, w r o t h * a x e d passed a decree forthwith, compelling all Christians persecuted*1 to renounce their religion. Thereupon he planned t h e Fa i th fu l and practised new kinds of torture against them, and threatened new forms of death. So throughout all his dominions he sent letters to his rulers and governors ordering penalties against the righteous, and unlawful massacres. But chiefly was his dis-pleasure turned against the ranks of the monastic orders, and against them he waged a trueeless and unrelenting warfare. Hence, of a t ru th , many of the Faithful were shaken in spirit, and others, unable to endure torture, yielded to his ungodly decrees. But of the chiefs and rulers of the monastic order some in rebuking his wickedness ended their lives by suffering martyrdom, and thus attained to everlasting fe l ic i ty ; while others hid themselves

13


, Beet, M.it. . 23 , 1 -

.

II

, , , , , , - , , , , . , ) \ , , , ) , , , . - 9 , , , , . , , , , , ,

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , i . S -n . 9

in deserts and mountains, not from dread of the threatened tortures, but by a more divine dispensa-t ion.

I I

Now while the land of the Indians lay under of the chief the shroud of this moonless night, and while w T o " ' the Faithful were harried on every side, and the ciiTiltian champions of ungodliness prospered, the very air reeking wi th the smell of bloody sacrifices, a certain man of the royal household, chief satrap in rank, in courage, stature, comeliness, and in all those qualities which mark beauty of body and nobil i ty of soul, far above all his fellows, hearing of this iniquitous decree, bade farewell to all the grovelling pomps and vanities of the world, joined the ranks of the monks, and retired across the border into the desert. There, by fastings and vigils, and by di l igent study of the divine oracles, he throughly purged his senses, and i l lumined a soul, set free from every passion, wi th the glorious l ight of a perfect calm.

But when the k ing , who loved and esteemed H o w K i n g him highly, heard thereof, he was grieved in spirit tcutu?rto at the loss of his friend, but his anger was the more JV i ' c h e n d hotly kindled against the monks. And so he sent everywhere in search of h im, leaving ' no stone unturned/ as the saying is, to find him. After a long while, they that were sent in quest of h im, having learnt that he abode in the desert, after

1 5


, - . - , , , ^, , ,

, - , ^ ; -, , , , , - , 10 , ; , , - ;

, ' , , , - , . , ,

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , 11. 9 - 1 0

dil igent search, apprehended him and brought him before the king's judgement scat. When the k ing saw him in such vile and coarse raiment who before had been clad in rich apparel,saw h im, who had lived in the lap of luxury, shrunken and wasted by the severe practice of discipline, and bearing about in his body outward and visible signs of his hermit-l ife, he was filled wi th mingled grief and fury, and, in speech blended of these two passions, he spake unto him thus :

fO thou dullard and mad man, wherefore hast T h e k i n ^ thou exchanged thine honour for shame, and thy h i m wi th glorious estate for this unseemly show ? To w h a t l n s f o l l y end hath the president of my kingdom, and chief commander of my realm made himself the laughingstock of boys, and not only forgotten utter ly our friendship and fellowship, but revolted against nature herself, and had no pity on his own children, and cared naught for riches and all the splendour of the world, and chosen ignominy such as this rather than the glory that men covet ? And what shall i t profit thee to have chosen above all gods and men him whom they call Jesus, and to have preferred this rough life of sackcloth to the pleasures and delights of a life of bliss.

When the man of God heard these words, he T h e chief made reply, at once courteous and unruffled: ' I f *"thThVkTng i t be thy pleasure, king , to converse wi th me, to put remove thine enemies out of mid eourt; which done, fSeou t I w i l l answer thee concerning whatsoever thou o f c o u r t mayest desire to learn ; for while these are here, 1 cannot speak wi th thee. But, without speech,

1 7 c


* 6 , ai. v i . 14 ,

, , , -; * * yap ,

inm. . 4 , * , , , , -. , , , , . 11 , - , , , . * , , , , , .

, , , , , , , , , ,

8

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A R I I , u. I O - I I

torment me, k i l l me, do as thou wi l t , for " the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world ," .as saith my divine teacher/ The k ing said, ' And who are these enemies whom thou biddest me turn out of court ?' The saintly man answered and said, ' Anger and Desire. For at the beginning these twain were brought into being by the Creator to be fellow-workers wi th nature ; and such they sti l l are to those " w h o walk not after the flesh but after the Spir i t ." But in you who are altogether carnal, having nothing of the Spirit , they are adversaries, and play the part of enemies and foemen. For Desire, working in you, stirreth up pleasure, but , when made of none effect, Anger. To-day therefore let these be banished from thee, and let Wisdom and Righteousness sit to hear and judge that which Ave say. For i f thou put Anger and Desire out of court, and in their room bring in Wisdom and Righteousness, I wi l l t r u th fully tel l thee al l . ' Then spake the k ing, e Lo I yield to thy request, and wi l l banish out of the assembly both Desire and Anger, and make Wisdom and Righteousness to sit between us. So now, te l l me without fear, how wast thou so greatly taken wi th this error, to prefer the bird in the bush to the bird already in the hand ? '

The hermit answered and said, ( 0 k ing , i f thou i i e c x c u s c t b askest the cause how 1 came to despise things i^lo'the temporal, and to devote my whole self to the j ^ f j j ^ ' f a hope of things eternal, hearken unto me. I n former wholesome days, when I was st i l l but a str ipl ing, I heard a ^ ^ certain good and wholesome saying, which, by its liim, force took my soul by storm ; and the remembrance

l9 c 2


9 , , - , , , iv .

Cur . L 2S ", , - , , 12 he, ; \ he , , , , he ' hva, , *

Rom. . 26 , , hv , - .

T i t . i n . 4 "Ore hv ?/ - , , - , , -

E c c i e s . 14 , \ , '

2 Cur. . 15 ' 2 0

BAR L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , n. 1 1 - 1 2

of i t , l ike some divine seed, being planted in my heart, unmoved, was preserved ever unt i l i t took root, blossomed, and bare that fruit which thou seest in me. Now the meaning of that sentence was th i s : " I t seemed good to the foolish to despise the things that are, as though they were not, and to cleave and cling to the things that are not, as though they were. So he, that hath never tasted the sweetness of the things that are, wi l l not be able to understand the nature of the things that are not. And never having understood them, how shall he despise them ?" Now that saying meant by " th ings that a re" the things eternal and fixed, but by " th ings that are n o t " earthly life, luxury, the prosperity that deceives, whereon, king , thine heart alas ! is fixed amiss. Time was when I also clung thereto myself. But the force of that sentence continually goading my heart, stirred my governing power, my mind, to make the better choiee. But " t h e law of sin, warring against the law of my mind , " and binding me, as wi th iron chains, held me captive to the love of things present.

' But "after that the kindness and love of God a n d of h i s our Saviour " was pleased to deliver me from that f ^ ^ h e ^ harsh captivity, he enabled my mind to overcome of sin the law of sin, and opened mine eyes to discern good from evil. Thereupon I perceived and looked, and behold! all things present are vanity and vexation of spirit , as somewhere in his writings saith Solomon the wise. Then was the veil of sin lifted from mine heart, and the dullness, proceeding from the grossness of my body, which pressed

21


, 13 , ykyova , , , , ,

E x . . , -h . v i . 12

, ,, 2 Cor . iv . 7

, Mat. . 14 , -

,

E c c i e s . i i . 2 , , , , . , - 14 . yap , .

, , , -, ,

22

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , n. 1 2 - 1 4

upon my soul, was scattered, and I perceived the end for which I was created, and how that i t behoved me to move upward to my Creator by the keeping of his commandments. Wherefore I left all and followed h im, and I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord that he delivered me out of the mire, and from the making of bricks, and from the harsh and deadly ruler of the darkness of this world , and that he showed nie the short and easy road whereby I shall be able, in this earthen body, eagerly to embrace the Angelic life. Seeking to attain to i t the sooner, I chose to walk the strait and narrow way, renouncing the vanity of things present and the unstable changes and chances thereof, and refusing to call anything good except the true good, from which thou, k ing , art miserably sundered and alienated. Wherefore also we ourselves were alienated and separated from thee, because thou wert falling into plain and manifest destruction, and wouldst constrain us also to descend into l ike peril . But as long as we were tr ied in the warfare of this world, we failed in no point of duty. Thou thyself w i l t bear me witness that we were never charged wi th sloth or heedlessness.

But when thou hast endeavoured to rob us of the iiecouvkt-chiefest of all blessings, our religion, and to deprive of^rror^nS us of God, the worst of deprivations, and, in this j l ^ n d ^ intent, dost remind us of past honours and prefer- t h e infinite ments, how should I not r ight ly tax thee wi th God ignorance of good, seeing that thou dost at all eom-

23


, - ; , , , , , , ; , , , -, 1, , Xoyo) yrjv ,

* , c x i x . 73 , ypjs , , -

wisd. . 24 . , 7) ( ) 15 ,

John . -3 . 6 - , , * ,

. H e b . iv. , , , , -, , , -, -yaye, .

, 2 4

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , n . 14-15

pare these two things, righteousness toward God, and human friendship, and glory, that runneth away like water ? And how, in such case, may we have fellowship wi th thee, and not the rather deny ourselves friendship and honours and love of children, and i f there be any other tie greater than these ? When we see thee, k ing , the rather forgetting thy reverence toward that God, who giveth thee the power to live and breathe, Christ Jesus, the Lord of all ; who, being alike without beginning, and coeternal with the Father, and having created the heavens and the earth by his word, made man wi th his own hands and endowed him with immortal i ty , and set him k ing of all on earth and assigned him Paradise, the fairest place of al l , as his royal dwell ing. But man, beguiled by envy, and (wo is me !) caught by the bait of pleasure, miserably fell from all these blessings. So he that once was enviable became a piteous spectacle, and by his misfortune deserving of tears. Wherefore he, that had made and fashioned us, looked again wi th eyes of compassion upon the work of his own hands. He , not laying aside his God-head, which he had from the beginning, was made man for our sakes, l ike ourselves, but without sin, and was content to suffer death upon the Cross. He overthrew the focman that from the beginning had looked wi th malice on our race ; he rescued us from that bitter capt iv i ty ; he, of his goodness, restored to us our former freedom, and, of his tender love towards mankind, raised us up again to that place from whence by our disobedience we had fallen, granting us even greater honour than at the first.

f H i m therefore, who endured such sufferings for ' ^ J 1 ^ . * 1 } 0 our sakes, and again bestowed such blessings upon this world

2 5


; , ; , , 16 . , & , , , , , , , , , , ; , , , , * , , ; .

J o h n . ' , ; 11. 15-17 ,

, * , ' ) , , ,

26


us, h im dost thou reject and scoff* at his Cross ? f rom.which And , thyself wholly riveted to carnal delights and hath been deadly passions, dost thou proclaim the idols of shame f l c h v u c d and dishonour gods ? Not only hast thou alienated thyself from the commonwealth of heavenly felicity but thou hast also severed from the same all others who obey thy commands, to the peril of their souls. Know therefore that I wi l l not obey thee, nor jo in thee in such ingratitude to God-ward ; neither wi l l I deny my benefactor and Saviour, though thou slay me by w i ld beasts, or give me to the fire and sword, as thou hast the power. For I neither fear death, nor desire the present world, having passed judge-ment on the frailty and vanity thereof. For what is there profitable, abiding or stable therein ? Nay, in very existence, great is the misery, great the pain, great and ceaseless the attendant care. O f its gladness and enjoyment the yoke-fellows are dejec-tion and pain. Its riches is poverty; its loftiness the lowest humiliation ; and who shall tell the ful l tale of its miseries, which Saint John the Divine hath shown me in few words? For he saith, " T h e whole world l ieth in wickedness"; and, " Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. For all that is in the world is the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof, but he that doeth the wi l l of God abideth for ever." Seeking, then, this good wi l l of God, I have forsaken every-thing, and joined myself to those who possess the

27


. . 2 BeoV , \ 17 1>. i . 15 / > - - \ / ,; /

, L u k e x v i . J , , Jas . i . 17 Cor. . 3 , ,

, P s . l v . 8

, - , .

, , , , . .

, , , , , , - . , . - , , , , , .

, -

2 Cor. i . l i , ' 18 2 8

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , . 1 6 - 1 8

same desire, and seek after the same God. Amongst these there is no strife or envy, sorrow or eare, but all run the like raee that they may obtain those everlasting habitations which the Father of lights hath prepared for them that love h im. Them have I gained for my fathers, my brothers, my friends and mine acquaintances. But from my former friends and brethren " I have got me away far off, and lodged in the wilderness" wait ing for the God, who saveth me from faintness of spirit , and from the stormy tempest '

When the man of God had made answer thus How the gently and in good reason, the k ing was stirred w7!!thTand by anger, and was minded cruelly to torment the chief ^ ur^p saint; but again he hesitated and delayed, regarding" depart from

0 - ' & his sight, his venerable and noble mien. So he answered and said :

( Unhappy man, that hast contrived thine own utter ruin, driven thereto, 1 ween, by fate, surely thou hast made thy tongue as sharp as thy wits. Hence thou hast uttered these vain and ambiguous babblings. Had I not promised, at the beginning of our converse, to banish Anger from mid court, I had now given thy body to be burned. But since thou hast prevented and tied me down fast by my words, I bear wi th thine effrontery, by reason of my former friendship with thee. Now, arise, and flee for ever from my sight, lest I see thee again and miserably destroy thee.'

So the man of God went out and withdrew to the cu\edthe" desert, grieved to have lost the crown of martvrdom, m o n k s t h e

' ~ * } more but daily a martyr in his conscience, and f wrestling fiercely 2 9


, . . 12

, , \ . -,

, , -, . . , , , , - . , - , - * , , . , 19 , ,

3


against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness' ; as saith Blessed Paul. But after his departure, the k ing waxed yet more wroth, and devised a yet fiercer persecution of the monastic order, while treating w i th greater honour the ministers and temple-keepers of his idols.

While the k ing was under this terrible delusion Of tho bi r th . 1 of the prince

and error, there was born unto him a son, a r ight ioasaph, goodly child, whose beauty from his very b i r th was b i r t h feast prophetic of his future fortunes. Nowhere in that land, they said, had there ever been seen so charming and lovely a babe. Ful l of the keenest joy at the bir th of the chi ld, the k ing called him Ioasaph,1 and in his folly went in person to the temples of his idols, for to do sacrifice and offer hymns of praise to his sti l l more foolish gods, unaware of the real giver of all good things, to whom he should have offered the spiritual sacrifice. He then, ascribing the cause of his son's bir th to things lifeless and dumb, sent out into all quarters to gather the people together to celebrate his son's bir th-da} ' : and thou mightest have seen all the folk running together for fear of the k ing , and bringing their offerings ready for the sacrifice, according to the store at each man's hand, and his favour toward his lord. But chiefly the k ing stirred them up to emulation. He brought ful l many oxen, of goodly size, for sacrifice, and thus, making a feast for all his people, he bestowed

1 i.e. T h e L o r d gathers.

3 1


6 iv , , , ,

I I I

* ) , . . , , , -. , 6 , , 9 , , , ' }. , . ,

N u m . - ]], , ' (*) - 20

, .

, , , . )

32

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , n. 19-111. 2 0

largesses on all his counsellors and officers, and on all his soldiers, and all the poor, and men of low degree.

I l l

Now on his son's birth-day feast there came unto of the pro-the k ing some five and fifty chosen men, schooled in t h e C > the star-lore of the Chaldirans. These the k ing l ^ l u u L e i b

called into his presenee, and asked them, severally, to te l l him the future of the new-born babe. After long counsel held, they said that he should be mighty in riches and power, and should surpass all that had reigned before him. But one of the astrologers, the most learned of all his fellows, spake thus : i From that which I learn from the courses of the stars, king, the advancement of the chi ld, now born unto thee, wi l l not be i n thy kingdom, but in another, a better and a greater one beyond compare. Methinketh also that he wi l l embrace the Christian religion, whieh thou perseeutest, and I trow that he wi l l not be disappointed of his aim and hope.' Thus spake the astrologer, l ike Balaam of old, not that his star-lore to ld him true, but because God signifieth the t ruth by the mouth of his enemies, that all excuse may be taken from the ungodly.

But when the k ing heard thereof, he received H o w the . . . . . . \ . king- set hi :

the tidings w i th a heavy heart, and sorrow cut son in a short his joy. Howsomever he bui l t , in a city set a p a r t 0

33


, TOP -, 7]\, ' , , , , , , , , - , , , . , -. , , - , , . 6

i s . v i . ; ' , Mat. x i i i . IS f

. ^ - 21

, , , , . 34

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , m . 2 0 - 2 1

apart, an exceeding beautiful palace, wi th cunningly where 1 9 & 1 " * none of tli.;

devised gorgeous chambers, and there set his son to annoys of dwell , after he had ended his first infancy ; and he for- come nigh bade any to approach h im, appointing, for instructors and servants, youths r ight seemly to behold. These he charged to reveal to him none of the annoys of life, neither death, nor old age, nor disease, nor poverty, nor anything else grievous that might break his happiness: but to place before h im everything pleasant and enjoyable, that his heart, revell ing in these delights, might not gain strength to consider the future, nor ever hear the bare mention of the tale of Christ and his doctrines. For he was heedful of the astrologer's warning, and i t was this most that he was minded to conceal from his son. And i f any of the attendants chanced to fall sick, he commanded to have him speedily removed, and put another plump and well-favoured servant in his place, that the boy's eyes might never onee behold anything to disquiet them. Such then was the intent and doing of the k ing, for, (seeing, he did not see, and hearing, he did not understand.'

But, learning that some monks sti l l remained, of ami how h. whom he fondly imagined that not a trace was chVisUaii!^ left, he became angry above measure, and his fury 1 0

was hotly kindled against them. And he commanded heralds to scour all the city and all the country, proclaiming that after three days no monk whatsoever should be found therein. But and i f any were

35 2


, Sea, yap () - , ' 6 .

I V

yap , , , , , , , , , , , , . , . , , , , -, \ -, , , , ' , , , , , . * , , * ,

36

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P I I , in . 21-iv. 2

discovered after the set t ime, they should he delivered to destruction by fire and sword. ' For/ said he, * these be they that persuade the people to worship the Crucified as God.' Meanwhile a th ing befell, that made the k ing st i l l more angry and bitter against the monks.

I V

THERE was at court a man pre-eminent among the Of a certain . v i r tuous

rulers, of virtuous life and devout in religion. Hut senator and while working out his own salvation, as best he man^* 1 1 " might, he kept i t secret for fear of the k ing . Wherefore certain men, looking enviously on his free converse wi th the k ing, studied how they might slander him ; and this was all their thought. On a day, when the k ing went forth a-hunting wi th his bodyguard, as was his wont, this good man was of the hunt ing party, Whi le he was walking alone, by divine providence, as I believe, he found a man in a eovert, east to the ground, his foot grievously erushed by a wild-beast. Seeing him passing by, the wounded man importuned him not to go his way, but to pity his misfortune, and take him to his own home, adding thereto : ' I hope that I shall not be found unprofitable, nor altogether useless unto thee.' Our nobleman said unto him, ' For very charity I ma l ignant wil l take thee up, and render thee such service as I EiSered may. But what is this profit which thou saidest that

37


; 6 , , , yap , , * , , . , , , , -, \ , , - . ' , , , - , , , - , , , , . 23 , , , - , .

, ,

33

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , iv. 2 2 - 2 3

I should receive of thee ?' The poor sick man the senator answered, am a physician of words. I f ever in m g speech or converse any wound or damage he found, 1 wi l l heal i t with befitting medicines, that so the evil spread no further/ The devout man gave no heed to his word, but on account of the commandment, ordered him to be carried home, and grudged him not that tending which he required. But the aforesaid envious and malignant persons, bringing forth to l ight that ungodliness with which they had long been in travail, slandered this good man to the k i n g ; that not only did he forget his friendship wi th the k ing , and negleet the worship of the gods, and incline to Christianity, but more, that he was grievously i n tr iguing against the k ingly power, and was turning aside the common people, and stealing all hearts for himself. ( But/ said they, ' i f thou w i l t prove that our charge is not ungrounded, call him to thee privately ; and, to t ry h im, say that thou desirest to leave thy fathers' religion, and the glory of thy k ingship, and to become a Christian, and to put on the monkish habit which formerly thou didst persecute, having, thou shalt tel l him, found thine old course evil/ The authors of this villainous charge against the Christian knew the tenderness of his heart, how that, i f he heard such speech from the k ing, he would advise h im, who had made this better choice, not to put off his good determinations, and so they would be found just accusers.

But the k ing , not forgetful of his friend's great H o w the kindness toward h im, thought these accusations in- t r/afofhini

39


, Set, . , - , , , - . vvvl , - , ) , * , , , , , , . , ; , . . , , - , , 2-1

D a n . 21 , ' , , , !

L u k e x i . 10; ) , , Mat. . 8 , ,

) , - ,

4

BAR LA A N D I O A S A R I I , . 2 3 - 2 4

credible and false ; and because lie might not accept them without proof, he resolved to try the fact and the charge. So he called the man apart and said, to prove h i m , ' Friend, thou knowest of all my past dealings wi th them that are called monks and with all the Christians. Rut now, I have repented in this matter, and, l ight ly esteeming the present world, would fain become partaker of those hopes whereof I have heard them speak, of some immortal kingdom in the life to come ; for the present is of a surety cut short by death. And in none other way, methinks, can I succeed herein and not miss the mark except 1 become a Christian, and, bidding farewell to the glory of my kingdom and all the pleasures and joys of life, go seek those hermits and monks, wheresoever they be, whom I have banished, and jo in myself to their number. Now what sayest thou thereto, and what is thine advice ? Say on ; I adjure thee in the name of t r u t h ; for 1 know thee to be true and wise above all men.'

The worthy man, hearing this, but never guessing H o w the the hidden pitfal l , was pricked in spirit, and, melt ing tukeiiTnV into tears, answered in his simplicity, k ing , live s u a r e for ever! Good and sound is the determination that thou hast determined ; for though the k ingdom of heaven be diflieult to find, yet must a man seek i t wi th all his might, for i t is wr i t ten, " l i e that seeketh shall find i t . " The enjoyment of the present life, though in seeming i t give delight and sweetness, is well thrust from us. A t the very moment of its being i t ceaseth to be, and for our joy repayeth us

4 i


, T yap Cp. wisd. . , ,

, , , , * . , yap , , . yap, -.

" - 25 , , . , , -. -, '. , , , . , , * , , , - , , -

4 2

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , iv, 2 4 - 2 5

w i th sorrow sevenfold. I ts happiness and its sorrow are more frail than a shadow, and, l ike the traees of a ship passing over the sea, or of a bird flying through the air, quiekly disappear. But the hope of the life to eome which the Christians preach is certain, and as surety sure; howbeit in this world i t hath tribulat ion, whereas our pleasures now are short-lived, and in the beyond they only win us correction and everlasting punishment without release. For the pleasures of such life are temporary, but its pains eternal ; while the Christians' labours are temporary, but their pleasure and gain immortal . Therefore well befall this good determination of the k i n g ! for r ight good i t is to exchange the corruptible for the eternal.'

The k ing heard these words and waxed exceeding i i o w t h e w r o t h : nevertheless he restrained his anger, and for m a r k e d the the season let no word fall . But the other, being p]"f s'f l r^ i s" shrewd and quiek of wi t , pereeived that the kin


, , - , .

Se Dan. . ; ? 7 , , ActS i i . 14 ' , , . \ r\ ^ / , ,

, , - . , , , , 26 . -, ; -* \\\ , , 66 ' , ' , , , * , , . 6 , , -* 6 , , , , - , , -44

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , . 2 5 - 2 6

wi th the k i n g ; how lie had given a good answer, but the k ing had taken his words amiss, and by his change of countenance betrayed the anger lurk ing wi th in his heart.

The sick beggar-man considered and said, ( Be i t and h o w by known unto thee, most noble sir, that the k ing w ^ a r - i e harboureth against thee the suspicion, that thou ^ * c o u n " wouldest usurp his kingdom, and he spake, as he i'i*ff:V"e,i.

1 r> > 1 3 t ) i e kmg'a

spake, to sound thee. Arise therefore, and crop thy favour hair. Doff these thy fine garments, and don an hair-shirt, and at daybreak present thyself before the king. And when he asketh thee, What meaneth this apparel ? answer h im, " I t hath to do with thy communing with me yesterday, king . Behold, I am ready to follow thee along the road that thou art eager to travel ; for though luxury be desirable and passing sweet, God forbid that I embrace i t after thou art gone ! Though the path of virtue, which thou art about to tread, be difficult and rough* yet in thy company I shall find it easy and pleasant, for as I have shared wi th thee this thy prosperity so now wi l l I share thy distresses, that in the future, as in the past, I may be thy fellow." ' Our nobleman, approving of the sick man's saying, did as he said. When the k ing saw and heard him, he was delighted, and beyond measure gratified by his devotion towards him. He saw that the accusations against his senator were false, and promoted him to more honour and to a greater enjoyment of his confidence. But against the monks he again raged above measure, declaring that this was of their teaching,

45


- .

, , - , , , , 27 , ' , , , ; - () , , , , , * - . ' 9 , ' - . , ' 0 1 ^ > ^ , , - , , ;

Mat. . 1 4 ; , Lllkcxin-24 , -

, , , 28

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , iv. 2 6 - 2 8

that men should abstain from the pleasures of life, and rock themselves in visionary hopes.

Another day, when he was gone a-hunting, he HOTT the espied two monks crossing the desert. These he t w o f f m o n k s ordered to be apprehended and brought to his ^ " , a n d chariot. Looking angrily upon them, and breathing w ^ t h e m fire, as they say, ' Ye vagabonds and deceivers,' he cried, ' have ye not heard the plain proclamation of the heralds, that i f any of your execrable religion were found, after three days, in any city or country wi th in my realm, he should be burned wi th fire ?' The monks answered, ' L o ! obedient to thine order, we be coming out of thy eities and eoasts. But as the journey before us is long, to get us away to our brethren, being in want of victuals, we were making provision for the way, that we perish not with hunger/ Said the k ing , ' He that dreadeth menace of death busieth not himself wi th the purveyance of victuals.' ' Well spoken, k ing , ' cried the monks. 'They that dread death have eoneern how to escape i t . And who are these but such as cl ing to things temporary and are enamoured of them, w ho, having no good hopes yonder, find i t hard to be wrenched from this present world, and therefore dread death ? But we, who have long since hated the world and the things of the world, and are walking along the narrow and strait road, for Christ his sake, neither dread death, nor desire the present world, but only long for the world to come. Therefore, forasmuch the death that thou art bringing upon us provetb

47


, .

' ?) - , * ; , ; , , ; . * , ' , , , ^ , . * , , , , . , . .

V

, * , , 20 , - , ,

4

A U L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , iv. 28-v . 29

but the passage to that everlasting and better l ife, i t is rather to be desired of us than feared.'

Hereupon the k ing , wishing to entrap the monks, as I ween, shrewdly said, ' How now ? Said ye not but this instant, that ye were withdrawing even as 1 commanded you ? And , i f ye fear not death, how eame ye to be fleeing ? Lo ! this is but another of your idle boasts and lies.' The monks answered, f 'Tis not because we dread the death wherewith thou dost threaten us that we flee, but because we pity thee. 'Twas in order that we might not bring on thee greater condemnation, that we were eager to escape. Else for ourselves we are never a whit terrified by thy threats.' A t this the k ing a n d w a x i n waxed wroth and bade burn them with fire. So by S-nVnem fire were these servants of God made perfect, and w i t h firo received the Martyr's crown. And the k ing published a decree that, should any be found leading a monk's life, he should be put to death without tr ial . Thus was there left in that country none of the monastic order, save those that had hid them in mountains and caverns and holes of the earth. So much then concerning this matter.

V

B U T meanwhile, the king's son, of whom our tale n.nv began to te l l , never departing from the palace pre- ii-uwii'1!',. pared for him, attained to the age of manhood. He ^"^ had pursued all the learning of the Ethiopians k n o w u , , e . .

r 1 cause of JJl

and Persians, and was as fair and well favoured impr ison-in mind as in body, intel l igent and prudent, m e u t

49


-, , , - . , , * . , , ; , ~ , yap ; . yap , * . yap * , , , , , , , . , 3 , . , , , * , , , ,,

5

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , v. 29-30

and shining in all excellencies. To his teachers he would propound such questions of natural history that even they marvelled at the hoy's quickness and understanding, while- the k ing was astounded at the charm of his countenance and the disposition of his soul. H e charged the attendants of the young prince on no account to make known unto him any of the annoys of life, least of all to te l l h im that death ensueth on the pleasures of this world. But vain was the hope whereon he stayed, and he was l ike the archer in the tale that would shoot at the sky. For how could death have remained unknown to any human creature ? Nor did i t to this boy ; for his mind was ferti le of wi t , and he would reason within himself, why his father had condemned him never to go abroad, and had forbidden access to all. He knew, without hearing i t , that this was his father's express command. Nevertheless he feared to ask h i m ; i t was not to be believed that his father intended aught but his good ; and again, i f i t were so by his father's w i l l , his father would not reveal the true reason, for all his asking. Wherefore he determined to learn the secret from some other source. There was one of his tutors nearer and iiowhc dearer to him than the rest, whose devotion he won ^ even further by handsome gifts. To him he put the t u t o r s question what his father might mean by thus enclosing him wi th in those walls, adding, f I f thou wi l t plainly tel l me this, of all thou shalt stand first in my favour, and 1 wil l make with thee a covenant of everlasting

2


. 6 , , , , -, , \ ] , . "\ , , , , , , /' , -, . - ' , , ', . 31

(} ) ), , , * ]. , , , , , , \ * ) , - ,

52


friendship.' The tutor, himself a prudent man, knowing how bright and mature was the boy's wit and that he would not betray h im. to his peri l , dis-covered to him the whole matterthe persecution of the Christians and especially of the anchorets decreed by the k ing , and how they were driven forth and banished from the country round about; also the prophecies of the astrologers at his b ir th . ' Twas in order,' said he, ' t h a t thou mightest never and learnt hear of their teaching, and choose i t before our h i m 1 " religion, that the k ing hath thus devised that none but a small company should dwell wi th thee, and hath commanded us to acquaint thee w i th none of the woes of life. ' When the young prince heard this he said never a word more, but the word of salvation took hold of his heart, and the grace of the Comforter began to open wide the eyes of his under-standing, leading him by the hand to the true God, as our tale in its course shall te l l .

Now the k ing his father came oftentimes to see H o w his boy, for he loved him passing wel l . On a day besought his son said unto h im, ( There is something that 1 I ^ ^ h i r r long to learn from thee, my lord the k ing , by reason of which continual grief and unceasing eare con-sumeth my soul.' His father was grieved at heart at the very word, and said, ( T e l l mc, darling chi ld, what is the sadness that eonstraineth thee, and straightway I wi l l do my diligence to turn i t into gladness.' The boy said, ' W h a t is the reason of mine imprisonment here ? Why hast thou barred me wi th in walls and doors, never going forth and

53


; 6 * , , ^/ . iv yap teal . ' , , 6 , iv , iv , - . yap , , , yvovv .

, 32 , , . , , , , , , yv, , , ypov , .

^ , , , 7], ', , Xy *

54

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , v. 3 1 - 3 2

seen of none ? ' His father replied, ' Because I w i l l not, my son, that thou shouldest behold anything to embitter thy heart or mar thy happiness. I intend that thou shalt spend all thy days in luxury unbroken, and in all manner joy and pleasaunce.' ' But/ said the son unto his father, ' know wel l , Sir, that thus I live not in joy and pleasaunce, but rather in affliction and great straits, so that my very meat and drink seem distasteful unto me and bitter. I yearn to see all that l ieth without these gates. I f then thou wouldest not have me live in anguish of mind, bid me go abroad as I desire, and let me rejoice my soul wi t l i sights hitherto unseen by mine eyes/

Grieved was the k ing to hear these words, but, r i ow the perceiving that to deny this request would but in - r " n t u d h is crease his boy's pain and grief, he answered, ' My ( , e s i r o son, I w i l l grant thee thy heart's desire.' And immediately he ordered that choice steeds, and an eseort fit for a k ing, be made ready, and gave him license to go abroad whensoever he would, charging his companions to suffer nothing unpleasant to come in his way, but to show him all that was beautiful and gladsome. He bade them muster in the way troops of folk intoning melodies in every mode, and presenting divers mimic shows, that these might occupy and delight his mind.

So thus i t came to pass that the king's son often H o w went abroad. One day, through the negligence of h i s ^ o i n ^ s his attendants, he descried two men, the one maimed, ? u t s : i W

' > 3 two men, and the other bl ind. In abhorrence of the sight, he one maim-

. . 11 ' ' e L '> a i K ^ o n e

cried to his esquires, ' \\ ho are these, and what i s b l ind, 55


, ; , , \ , . ] 6 ' ; * , * , 6 , , , , , ; ; 33 * ; yap , - . 6 ,

Cp. D a n . . , .

' , , , , -, , . * . * , , , . , , ; *

56

B A R L A A M A N D I O A S A P H , v. 3 2 - 3 3

this distressing spectacle ?' They, unable to con-ceal what he had wi th his own eyes seen, answered, 'These be human sufferings, which spring from corrupt matter, and from a body ful l of evil humours/ The young prince asked, ( Are these the fortune of all men ? ' They answered, ' Not of a l l , but of those in whom the principle of health is turned away by the badness of the humours/ Again the youth asked, ' I f then this is wont to happen not to all , but only to some, can they be known on whom this terrible calamity shall fall ? or is i t undefined and unforeseeable ? ' ' What man,' said they, f can dis-cern the future, and accurately ascertain i t ? This is beyond human nature, and is reserved for the immortal gods alone/ The young prince ceased from his questioning, but his heart was grieved at the sight that he had witnessed, and the form of his visage was changed by the strangeness of the matter.

Not many days after, as he was again taking his and again walks abroad, he happened wi th an old man, well a n i f c e U c ! ' 1 stricken in years, shrivelled in countenance, feeble-kneed, bent double, grey-haired, toothless, and with broken utterance. The prince was seized wi th astonishment, and, calling the old man near, desired to know the meaning of this strange sight. His companions answered, ' This man is now well advanced in years, and his gradual decrease of strength, w i th increase of weakness, hath brought , , ' ^ and ques-

him to the misery that thou seest. ' And , ' said he, t inned Ms 'wha t wil l be his end? ' They answered, ' Naught a b o u t t h e m

57


aXXo . " \ , , ; ; * , , , , , * ; , , ; * - , , , , , .

, , * , . , , , , ; , -, , . ' 1 ; , ; ; ;

58


but death wi l l relieve him. ' ( But/ said he, ' is this the appointed doom of all mankind ? Or doth i t happen only to some ?' They answered, f Unless death come before hand to remove him, no dweller on earth, but, as life advaneeth, must make tr ia l of this lot/ Then the young prince asked in how many years this overtook a man, and whether the doom of death was without reprieve, and whether there was no way to escape i t , and avoid coming to such misery. They answered h im, ' I n eighty or an hundred years men arrive at this old age, and then they die, since there is none other way ; for death is a debt due to nature, laid on man from the beginning, and its approach is inexorable/

When our wise and sagacious young prince saw n 0w and heard all this, he sighed from the bottom of ^ dirtiest his heart. ' Bit ter is this life/ cried he, and fulfilled * ^ ; / 1 of all pain and anguish, i f this be so. A n d how had seen

T i l 1 1 a U ' 1 n e a , t i

can a body be careless in the expectation of an unknown death, whose approach (ye say) is as uncertain as i t is inexorable ?' So he went away, restlessly turn ing over all these things in his mind, pondering without end, and ever calling up remembrances of death. Wherefore trouble and despondency were his companions, and his grief knew no ease ; for he said to himself, ' And is i t true that death shall one day overtake me ? And who is he that shall make mention of me after death, when time delivereth all things to forgetfulness ? When dead, shall I dissolve into nothingness ? Or is there life beyond, and another world ?' Ever frett ing over these and the

59


, , , , . , .

, , 35 , -, . , , * , , , . , , - . , . , ,

T i m . . 4 - , ,

*, c x i u i . 8 , * 6

B A R L A A M A N D l O A S A P H , 34-35

like considerations, he waxed |vde and wasted away, hut in the presence of his father, whenever he chanced to come to h im, lie made as though he were cheerful and without trouble, unwi l l ing that his cares should come to his father's knowledge. But he longed wi th an uiirestrainable yearning, to meet wi th the man that might accomplish his heart's desire, and fill his ears wi th the sound of good tidings.

Again he enquired of the tutor of whom we a n d again have spoken, whether he knew of anybody able o f to help him towards his desire, and to establish a h is tutor mind, dazed and shuddering at its cogitations, and unable to throw off its burden. He , recollecting their former communications, said, ' I have told thee already how thy father hath dealt wi th the wise men and anchorets who spend their lives in such philosophies. Some hath he slain, and others he hath wrath fully persecuted, and I wot not whether any of this sort be in this country side.' Thereat the prince was overwhelmed with woe, and grievously wounded in spirit. He was l ike unto a man that hath lost a great treasure, whose whole heart is occupied in seeking after i t . Thenceforth he lived in perpetual conflict and distress of mind, and all the pleasures and delights of this world were in his eyes an abomination and a curse. While the youth was in this way, and his soul was crying out to discover that which is good, the eye that beholdeth all things looked upon him, and he that wi l le th that f all men should be saved, and come to the knowledge of the t ru th , ' passed him not by, but showed this man also the tender love that he hath toward mankind, and made k

barlaam and ioasaph

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